


perfect murderer

by IsaeElentiyaXOX



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Fanfic, Fluff and Angst, Hope, Inspired by Divergent, Love, Modern Era, Murder, My First Fanfic, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Self Care, Slow Burn, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teenagers, inspired by throne of glass, rowaelin, self love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 14,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24891706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsaeElentiyaXOX/pseuds/IsaeElentiyaXOX
Summary: I cry till the blood goes away, but it never does, so I'm still crying.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

Perfect murderer 

Chapter 1 

I cry till the blood goes away, but it never does, so I'm still crying. Perfect murderer takes your aim. My fingers on the trigger but my finger triggers yours. I close my eyes but your all I see. My clothes are covered in blood redder than the devils, but it's not mine, and it's not yours yet your eyes are full of glee. Yes, I committed, but it's not my crime. 

I'm shaking as I wake drenched in a pool of sweat much too like blood from my nightmare, tears streaking my cheeks whilst my body shakes and it just gets worse when I see the left side of my bed is empty, I’m reliving yesterday and every day before that, except, before, well, that fucking day. I'm considering not getting up today, but my mum would be suspicious, and I immediately rule it out, just like every day. I’ll listen to my mum, me and grandma are all she has left after my shitty dad walked out on her not even thinking about me. I walk towards my bathroom being careful to not make a sound as I ponder to the mirror still radiating anger after thinking about my dad, I stare at the perfect image of me that everyone sees as I school my features into a soft smile, my straight white blonde hair grazing my bum and my piercing ocean blue eyes cloudy with thought. It's another day, just another day I repeat to the mirror, my name is Cyra Aveyard and I will not stand down. But oh, too quickly does that frown mask my pretty features but again I push it away, too many times has my grandma told me I don’t look half as pretty with a frown. 

After a quick and cold shower, I dry off but can't help but look at myself naked and bare in the mirror. I have an hourglass figure, and when you don’t look too keenly, I tend to be attractive. But when people see all the good and all the bad, they tend to turn and run. I know that my arms are chubby, and that the scars run down my torso criss crossing over my boobs and lower stomach are ugly. I find it easy to pretend to be comfortable in my own skin, but I can't help but wish my scars would go, I can't feel comfortable wearing tops that reveal my good amount of cleavage because my scars delve up some undesirable questions. So much so I covered lots of my more noticeable scars along my wrists and ankles courtesy from some rather uncomfortable restraints with rings of snake tattoos circling my scars, fangs out, moving up my arm. Each scale from each snake acts as a symbol, one scale for one life I've taken, one scale to show one piece of life I've lost. Two snakes are fully scaled one hundred on each and I don’t know how much longer my soul can last be chipped apart, after all hell must be looking forward to having me. Show them how much hell a pretty angel like you can cause, they needn't tell me twice, I've given up feeling righteous, my beautiful eyes do all the deceiving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, its my first time posting here so hope you like it!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 

I can't see the bottom I just know I've got more room to fall, I'm just getting deeper into this mess that’s supposed to be my life. I'm rummaging through my room in a failed effort to find my makeup bag at 4 am yet I only take 20 minutes to do my face makeup. Instead it’s to cover my history, my insecurities and the haunting memories associated with my past, it's to paint over my scars. Finally, I see it slumped near the corner beside a similar sized dent in my wall and I remember how much I hate my body, I'm just an ugly canvas needing painting over. I got started on my concealer slapping large amounts of product on a distinct scar across the pulse point of my neck and right there and then with makeup dripping down my neck I prayed and thanked the lord for keeping me alive even if I sometimes wish he hadn't. I stayed their head in my lap and palms touching pointed towards the lord for seconds, minutes or hours I don’t know. 

Finally, I pulled myself together and began finishing getting ready, I browsed my closet and finally decided on a tight t-shirt dress reaching mid-thigh finished off with a black and gold buckled belt. I added some small gold hooped earrings and grabbed a black cropped denim jacket as I headed downstairs bracing myself for my grandmothers disapproving glare. ‘You look like your dressed to kill, not do your chores Cyra’ I tried not to shudder as she said dressed to kill but failed miserably but I told myself it's just the cold get a grip on yourself for god's sake. ‘And look outside that little jacket won't help at all if you're already cold, and before you say but it makes my bum look big remember no boyfriends anyway until your 25.’ I got this lecture everyday no matter what I wear, but I can't tell my grandma nobody wants to date a cruel hearted assassin, so I take the punishment anyway even though I zone out after her first sentence. I also can't tell her where I'm going today instead of doing my chores and I hate not telling her but I'm not actually lying just not telling her the whole truth, god didn’t say anything about that right? 

Whilst a war raged inside my head and the clashing of swords on skull interested me greatly, I drew my attention back towards making my coffee and grabbing the pastries my mum brought home yesterday after work. I shoved my first pastry into my mouth moaning at the taste whilst I blocked out my grandmother's remarks and me being vulgar and terribly unladylike whilst I wolfed down another glorious tasting pastry, this one cinnamon and raisin. I couldn’t wait any longer for my coffee rush so as soon as it was done, I took a long swig but instantly regretted it once my tongue was burning and my mouth was on literal fire, my mother walked in at that precise moment trying yet failing to hold back her snigger at my misfortune, someone better be having a worse day than me, right? Huffing and puffing as I stormed out the room once again trying not to drop my coffee whilst I was sure it was searing a hole into my hand, I muttered curses under my breath. God help me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm going to be updating every day so please keep reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

Once I was clear from the ever-sounding laughs from my mother about my ‘awful social skills or my nonexistent sex life’ which was true by the way, and my grandmother's remarks about my constant ‘scandalous’ outfits I let out a sigh. I'd already ditched my coffee by offering it to a homeless man along the high street – not to be nice, instead to take the edge off my quick rising guilt. I was on my way to wander through flames whilst trying to restrain myself from turning and running at every and any opportunity, but like they say for gangs once you're in its very hard to get back out, its much the same when you ruin your life by joining a terrorist group at just the measly age of thirteen. A stranger's kind smile and a guiding hand led me to the worst type of life, my own. Armad saw me, a young timid girl vulnerable but built like a sleek knife and he turned me into his own personal champion and cold hard brutal weapon. He took to shaping me into his scourge manipulating me and worming his soft yet poisonous words into my skull. I saw my skull turn rotten; I saw my skull house remnants of the fallen Medusa, and I saw my whole body turn to stone once I looked into Armad’s eyes, but I did nothing. 

Hesitantly turned into the unsuspecting town house surrounded by poncey old men with sticks stuck up their ass who can't see further than ten centimeters in front of them without their glasses let alone scout out the top players of England's assassins' game. But it wasn’t really their fault, after all even the police couldn’t place an address on any individual in their terrorist organization. But if they did, they would find a dead body and a not so nice note left in the middle of their room with a smirk plastered onto the lifeless body. 

None of the bricks left on the compound were original, nobody would dare scale the wall but if they dared, they would be welcomed by some very cleverly concealed barbed wire razor sharp and just as deadly as a well-placed knife. But if that wasn’t enough, military graded poison -smuggled and stolen- was painted meticulously every day on every spike, it was invisible but if it wasn’t it would as innocent as a child's joyful grin. Millions of pounds have been invested into this fortress making it near impossible to invade, but the fortress met its match from one stealthy female. 

The joyless pain never easing and never ceasing, haunted my body after Armdas grueling training had just begin and by the end my body felt like it was in fragments, cut up by slices from every scar running along my body and every bruise used as a dot to dot. But he doesn't do anything without reason he wanted me to be good and he knew that with my training and ability I could take him out but he was realistic and so was I, if I ever turned my back on my master and knife would be shoved through mine in an instant. And I may not love my body, but I know I'm no longer that same timid girl I was, I’m built of muscle and I'm made like a warrior. I was born in London but this version of me was made in this very house. I’m twisted and I prove this true, hell is only empty because all the devils are right here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 

When Armad summoned me, I knew better than to keep him waiting I took the pounding assault on my skull courtesy to a dreadful hangover on the chin and slipped out the back door of the house. Taking great care to not alert the alarms at the front of the yard I had installed after the paranoia had started making me keep eyes in the back of my head permanently: I glided silently until I had closed the front gate of our house. It was nothing special just a pebbledash bungalow built back in the 1950s, but it was all my mum could afford after all a junior nurse's salary isn't spectacular. However, the two casement windows drew mum towards the place, she has a vision that one day she could dress our house up and make it the star of our road. She dreams of our empty and car less driveway being lined with beautiful flowers and the house being painted a lovely white, but we can all dream. That’s another reason I agree to be Armads scourge he can help towards my mother's dream and he doesn't hold back on my paychecks, one day I hope I can afford to buy my mum and gran a massive house full of everything they could ever want. But most of all I want to make her happy, and if this is the way to do it then so be it. 

Despite my fantasy's I repress my imagination and focus on getting towards the fortress cursing at the nightmares I could be walking towards. I pull down my black hood to allow the camera to get a good look at me and the gates slowly open almost hesitant to let me in; just then I know this is not going to be good news. I stalk towards the meeting room dropping my shoes and coat in the middle of the hall, even though Armad is the boss my reputation isn't unlike his; they all learnt not to underestimate a girl quite early on, I made sure of it. When I flounced into the room all the heads turned each one painted with the same expression, pure fear. I gave a casual smirk towards the table as I bounced into my seat next to Armad he gave a snarl at my theatrical entrance but couldn’t hide the snigger when the rest of the men cowed at my performance. But as soon as my show was complete the mood grew dark and heavy, all eyes turned towards the head of the table and straight at Armads striking golden hair but even his eyes were hazy with grief. 

‘We are being faced with a slight inconvenience in our home’ Armad gestured at the building around waving a hand whilst speaking. 

‘They know where we are, right?’ I sighed adjusting my dangling earrings. 

‘Yes, Cyra it seems you are the only one to grasp the situation’ Armad remarked, but nobody dared defend themselves they knew Armad was not above inflicting pain. 

‘Mmmmm’ I murmured not even bothering to hide the smirk stretching across my face. 

‘It seems we are moving tonight so I want you all to collect your belongings and don't ask where to put It, that is up to you’ Armad meticulously exaggerated the last part after all he just guessed everyone's next question, even my own. 

Once I walked out of that room, I didn’t let myself think about what just happened in that room, even though nobody seemed fazed everyone knew this was as bad as it could get. If the police knew where we are, they might know who comes in and out of here every day, they could work out the top six assassins in the world just by some measly CCTV. I swallowed once more and gathered myself, I set off towards my room in the complex as I collected my weapons and stealth suits flung around the room. I sighed then whispered to myself, I will not get caught and I won’t sacrifice my mother's dream because I wasn’t careful enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, any tips would be appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 

A single tear slipped down my cheek only visible from the shining streetlights glare. I was told I was a pretty Cryer, but only by those I've loved before and I'm afraid to say but being comforted by the one your crying for just made the tears keep falling. Armad says that those you love will only be turned against you, so maybe it's right that I have no one. But I'm selfish, I thought I found love before and it broke me in half, I had my chance, but now it's gone. Maybe I don’t deserve to be happy. And anyway, who wants to date a cold-hearted assassin? 

I'm walking without directing my feet, my mind is up with the moon and my eyes are seeing stars. I'm here but not quite, walking on the clouds looking like an angel but thinking like the devil. I feel like the cherubs can peek through my mask, its cracking and I know that the walls I put up must come down. Maybe I woke up on the wrong side of my empty bed but I'm feeling so high up in the clouds, I can't explain it, but I don’t want to come down. 

I don’t know how, but I'm here. A calm in the storm, my mum in my heart. This is her haven when I'm acting ugly, where she lets her tears finally slide. And I know it silly, but I feel like I'm imposing when I see my mum at her most vulnerable. Her eyes are bloodshot, and her makeup is ruined but my mum is beautiful even when things get ugly, I don’t get to see this side of my mum, but she is still so perfect. I was ready to turn away but before I knew I was weeping for myself, for Akos my dead love and for my precious mum. 

I don’t want to be alone again, if I have my mum my life won't be in vain. When I see an angel all I see is her but who has ever heart of an angel having a devil for a child. In a second my mum’s arms are around me and I didn’t mind when my shoulder became wet with her tears. I will hold her for as long as she needs and as long as she wants. But before I was ready my mum's arms uncurled from around me and she held my face in her palms; I could see the tear streaks carving through her makeup but that was perfect to me. ‘You're my angel’ she whispered, and I couldn’t help myself as another tear slid down my already sodden cheek. 

‘Who am I now?’ I murmured as I choked back my tears. Understanding flashed in her eyes and I gave a weak smile back her way, that was when I knew I'm not alone. 

‘You are my hope, my life, my love and mi hija’ cooed my mum, even so I'm trying to fight my love but I can't deny it, my mum is my world and everything in it. 

‘I've put you through some things, but you’re my mum and the only mum I would have wanted’ I breathed ‘And I love you.’ And it felt like the only true thing I've said in days. I don’t know how long we sat there for whispering secrets that felt like prayers, but I felt true to myself for the first time since Akos my perfect first love died. For the first time I didn’t cry when I thought of his name, instead I smiled meekly, and my heart swelled with all my love. Maybe I am selfish for wanting to find love again, but what if I'm not. I'm not done grieving and I never will be but I'm moving in the right direction, its done messing with my head, this is the end of a chapter but it's not the last one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still posting everyday so keep reading!


	6. Chapter 6

It's like the doors are all slamming in my face, I'm crawling in my own skin. The daggers carving marks into my thighs, before this life I didn’t know the true weight of a weapon, as heavy as a life itself. The comfort of protection no longer there, my eyes lost from the moment, after all no sleep can do that to a person. I haven't been sleeping because I'm bored of dreaming about my messed-up mind, I’m tired of feeling so foolish I just want to be spared all the broken parts. 

My target was meant to be quick and easy, but I should have known, why did I buy all the lies? It's too late now, the businessman was staring back at me in the busy street. I was in plain clothing, loose baggy black trousers and a white blouse, if you knew no better you would have thought I was related to every woman on the street. How did he know I'm different? Why does he see me? But why doesn’t he look at me like I'm fucked up? My instincts told me not to turn back, what good would it do but the storm in my mind wouldn’t quiet the feeling. The muscles in my neck were twitching urging me to turn, and my eyes darted away from where I was walking, pain shot through my nose but when I pulled back all I saw was a crisp white shirt. I pulled back and I saw the most handsome man I've ever laid eyes on, his jade green eyes locked with my own and I felt a pang in my heart. I’m making a fool of myself, for God's sake I lay eyes on the most beautiful man I've met, and I think I'm love, it's pathetic I know. Before I knew he was gone, and all I saw as the last whiff of the man of my heart left was his name tag, Amar. 

Before my heart could shatter, I brought myself back down to earth back towards the man watching me. What harm could it do now to take a quick peek right, but before I could register the panic spreading through me as I saw he wasn’t there a hand reached out. Brushing across my concealed blades, the man didn’t flinch or twitch after he pulled his hand back. ‘Miss you ok? I happened to see you had a slight knock’ the man said, his accent apparent and heavy. He gave a lopsided smile my way and that’s when I realized why he looked different, why I wanted to take a second look, half his face was burned hardly noticeable because his dark skin complexion was already so similar. 

I know this is my chance, I was sent here to kill this man, might as well let him make it easy for me. ‘Would you mind if I had an ice pack, I'm scared it might swell up?’ I asked mumbling as it got to the end, I might as well act it out. ‘Sure Miss, I think you have a pretty good idea where I live’ he chuckled as he directed his arm towards his house motioning for me to lead the way. Suddenly as I walked this man towards his death that pit of guilt kept filling, bile rose in my throat and I shoved it down. 

Once he shut the door my heartbeat faster...I gotta do what I gotta do...but he says he wants to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll carry this scene on tomorrow, hope you enjoy.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 

Under attack from my soul, no under attack from my mind, feeling suicidal. I thought this life wasn’t meant for me but who would I be if I turned down Armad’s present, my mum told me to be polite, stop acting out like a fool. Wish I could stop crying whilst I'm in the company of another, his face was a nice as anyone's has ever been. Wait a minute whys he so committed to play off his own murder, does he even feel? 

‘Sit’ he said leading me blindly towards the sofa, then saying ‘Don't be upset this chat shouldn’t be painful, dry your eyes.’ I stared at him blankly sorting through the graphic images of his dead corpse on the floor blinking through my madness. Don’t feel sorry for me, just forget that I’m an assassin that can't stop losing sleep over the blood-stained red on my hands. ‘Sorry’ I muffled, but then stated ‘You wanted to talk. 

’Shall we cut the small talk then, I never was a fan of it anyway’ the man without a name droned on, not at all cutting out the small talk. 

I enunciated, ‘Yes, you can start with your name’. 

‘Someone's changed their tune, brought along some confidence after all’ he continued not answering the question. 

‘Some of us need it in our delightful professions’ I chirped back. 

‘And what exactly is it you do, Missy?’ 

‘Guess, why don’t you. Oh, and Cyra’s fine, I prefer not to go by Missy, little outdated don’t you think?’ 

‘Cyra hmmmm, but won’t you have to kill me after saying that’. 

‘And here I was thinking I was stringing you along, cottoned onto my job maybe?’ I cooed with delightful sarcasm. 

‘And are we going to sit here talking all day or are we going to get the deed done’ he spat back. 

‘But how would you like your flesh cooked after I'm done’ I teased, pausing for dramatic effect, humming with victory when he snarled. 

It must have been the last straw, as he pounced from across the room. He should have known better than to try to best the countries best assassin. Before he could get close enough to throw a punch my fist connected with his nose. He thumped to the floor like a dead weight, blood streaming down from his nose until he licked it from his lips. But a dagger hidden against my thigh was against his throat in seconds, I pushed it just hard enough to allow a trickle of blood to slip from his neck. ‘We can have matching scars I whispered with a dead look in my eye, gesturing towards my own neck. His eyes flickered long enough for his lapse in focus to allow me to strike. It may have been a petty move, but I relished his scream in my ears as I kneed him in the cock. Then with the dagger still at his throat I slid the knife across his pulse point. Watching him as he thrashed, he became more still and tired with every movement, then with one final cough he choked on his own blood. His heart finally giving up, it stopped beating. 

The killing calm slowly subsided and the noises of my breathing quieted and my senses came done from their high. I was still standing above his body as the tears fell, I placed a hand over my mouth to muffle the wailing. With my eyes still clouded with tears I took his legs in either hand and began dragging him out of the room into the trash chute outside. With every second my movements became more sluggish, but once I got rid of his body I ran. I ran until my knees were burning and my breath was wobbling with exhaustion. I crouched behind some bins in a quiet alley, the atmosphere subdued compared from the busy high street I just came from. My mind was spinning, and my hands shook like crazy as I reached from the still bloody dagger that I had tucked back into my trousers. I’m debating, thinking about turning the blade on myself. I really am, but I can’t. Not because of me, but for my mum, my grandma and even that guy, Amar, the one who I bumped into this morning. They all light that small hope of freedom inside of me, making me yearn to live. But I’ve given up living for me, each day I’m frightened by the monsters that I can't keep leashed up inside, I'm not even sure I'm really living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry we might see some more of Amar next chapter;) I'll also be posting again tomorrow!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 

Inhale, exhale can’t breathe. Just have a drink and I'll feel better. I say it gets better but does it ever. Holding my shaking hands before me they jolted as a sharp tear chocked from my throat, and as I raised them to wipe away my tears I stopped as I saw the red blood coating them, the blood looked almost fake liked a garish dummy. A tear splatted onto my gory knuckle and just for a moment I thought the tears could wash away the blood on my hands, but everything stayed the same. Now its official I’m never going to change. 

With a contorted face, puffy eyes and tear streaked cheeks, I padded towards the bathroom next to my room. The house was empty and for that I was thankful or else I would want my mum to erase my face. The rushing of the tap was quieter than my waterworks as I lathered the soap between my hands, scared to look in mirror I watched as the water drained, looking like red wine. It's so cruel as the only trace of the dead man left are the mental scars that haunt my day as well as my nights, his broken legacy is left with a teenager's tragic mind. 

When the pain ebbs in I choose not to fight it, I add to the punishment, I deserve it. Traditionally I walk towards the box beneath my bed, innocent baby blue. Something sharp grazed across my hand, but then I felt a trigger across my fingertips and once I wrapped my hand across the cold metal it soothed my racing heart. After I checked the door was locked, I brought the lid off and dragged the box to my side. With my eyes to my right, looking at the box I rolled up my sleeve. The scaled snake tattoos were exposed, bearing 100 scales each with fangs dripping with blood. I then rolled up my trousers exposing the scale less snakes wrapped around my ankles, with fangs bearing no blood but ready to strike. Reaching to my right I lifted the tattoo gun and began busying myself with the ink and setting up my punishment, my constant reminder, my tattoo. 

Even though my mind is in wrecks my hands are surprisingly still as the machine starts up and the needle hits my skin. I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood as I swallow the scream, but I repeat in my mind, I deserve this. For his death. For my life. But also, for my terror of what I've become. After I begin, I start tracing the same scale from my wrist across my ankle taking my time, relishing in the pain. But it's over too quickly, the one scale took only 20 seconds, he will get no funeral, but he got 20 seconds of my pain just for him. 

As soon as I place the tattoo machine back into the box under my bed, the guilt threatens to swallow me whole, as I draw a shaky breath I brace myself to get up. The pain as I put pressure back onto my foot tugs at my self control ready to see me unravel. I know sleep will not come tonight, a throb in my heart from somewhere distant is keeping me awake. This feels like a takeover, my mind is under so much pressure. My mum should be back by now and all I see is her heart is failing, the shatters of her heart cutting me deep inside. But I need to listen, whispering out loud I say my mind is wrong, the images are made from plastic, fake. I wish I could believe the pretty little lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay eight chapters! I'll be updating chapter 9 tomorrow, so please keep reading :)


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 

I fake my ignorant bliss. I pretend I believe the lies. I smile when I'm crying inside. And it's true, the greatest prison I live in is the fear of what other people think. People can feel sad when they see my scars but then they don’t see me, there are wounds that never show on my body, they are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds. Once I stop hearing my screams, I stop hearing others too, once I lost myself, I can't make my way back to you. 

Wrapped in my thoughts, silent yet trying to scream for help, I hoped my prayers will get answered with the stranger outside. It’s funny how I can imagine the love of my life, but they have no face, I don’t know their name and I don’t know their mind, and yet I love them already. It's funny how quickly a dream can die. With one look at that man at my door my heart dropped, I can love this man but how will he ever learn to love me. 

His jade green eyes weren't the same as I remembered but they were more beautiful than I could comprehend, his stunning golden blonde hair memorized me for a second as I took him in and as a beam of light danced along his nose ring and I spotted it for the first time. He was perfect in every way, except I had missed something before, clouding his eyes were emotions I knew too well, anxiety, dread, and the crippling grief that had threatened to pull me under before. And even after just thinking all this, dread too clouded my eyes and pooled in the pit of my stomach, I know he's not here for anything good, but why here? 

After one deep breath and after I released how long I had kept him waiting outside my door I traipsed towards him. 'Uhm, hi’ was all I could stutter as I came face to face with my envision of God. ‘Can I uhm maybe come in’ was his response and it brought me back to my first conversations with actual boys where I would literally choke on my own words because I was so nervous. ‘Sure’ was the only word I could come up with without stuttering until I said, ‘but you’ve got to take your shoes off, my grandmothers rule’ I said, only adding the last bit when he gave me a quizzical look. Even though me and my grandmother would argue I could practically feel my face light up as I talked about her, but as mine did his expression was darkening the more I talked. The awkwardness we had managed to partially get rid of before came back when he didn’t say anything, just took his shoes off and waited for me to lead the way to what I'm assuming was the living room. ‘Tea?’ I asked hoping to lighten the mood, but he just shook his head; even so I continued to hurry around the kitchen finding a mug for myself. And as I waited for the kettle to boil, I watched him. I noticed how when he was thinking his brows would raise and when he was nervous, he would tap his knee to the Simpsons them tune. And my heart would fill when he stared into the distance unaware of my thumping heart, of course my dreaded heart was smitten for a guy would quite clearly doesn't want to be here. 

But as soon as I was sitting opposite him on the sofa his demeanor changed drastically, he stopped procrastinating and his body language turned hard and defensive. And then he began, ‘My name is Amar Hanlon and I work in the police force around Westminster. I’m here for as long as you need, until you are ready to talk and I promise I won't force you until you're ready’ he meant to carry on but as he saw me taking ragged breaths in and drenched from my own sweat he stopped. I know where this is going, I've watched cop shows before and now it all makes sense. My mum and grandma don’t come home and now some fucking police officer shows up saying he's here for me. Then, Casually and without my consent slow desolate tears ran from my unblinking eyes and dripped steadily into my nightshirt. But it didn't take long until great sobs were racking my body and drenching my face. 

She's fucking dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After some time off and still with a sprained wrist, this chapter was hard to write but hope you enjoyed.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 

There is always an evil side if you learn to look past an innocent face. Even when I'm grieving my grandmother's death, that’s not what's making me cry. Escalating guilt forcing me to try and justify my conscience, when the killing party's over, it's not just me who lives with pain. When the party’s over, I'm the reason not everyone makes it back home. I’m the reason their daughter, their son, their mother, and their father are crying, wiping their nose as they sit in their stiff black suits, watching as their loved one's body is paraded down the aisle. And when they don’t know why, who, how, they died, they should not cry harder, instead they should see me behind bars, rotting away as I should. 

Even when Amar offered me his shoulder to cry on and his strong calloused hands wrapped around my torso, when I'm resting in the crook of his elbow my mind wouldn’t rest. If I didn’t feel so vulnerable and wasn't selfishly enjoy the silent comfort of his strangely intimate gesture I would have told him he was fussing, even with tears still streaming down my damp cheeks. And yet I didn’t want to be alone, I didn’t want to be alone with myself. Without my grandma I only have my mum to truly live for but I’m sick and tired of living for everyone else, but I can’t bring myself to live for me. 

Before I could stop myself, I was asleep or dead, out like the lights and sprawled as if in a tomb. I try to escape my reality, but I drift into sleep like I'm falling and landing in my grave. I slip into a nightmare as fast as you can breathe, but I forget to breathe...forgot to remember...or I just don’t want too...No not this again, please no. 

Sipping on my fantasy, then I jerk awake. Chasing through my mind sorting through my memories, where am I? Whose eyes are wide open, shining from the falling tear that slipped down from his chin and landed on mine? Whose tugging at my heartstrings as I see him. Then I'm awake, I'm hurting and I'm shaking, and I don’t know why. I’m crying like a freak; he’s whispering but I can’t hear. I can’t talk but I rest my hand on your heart, I'm breathing on to his heartbeat, he’s quieting my monsters inside. 

Once I registered his voice from the storm in my mind, the monsters ran, they ran from his jade green eyes, bolted from his soft voice. When I arched my head from his heart I stared into his eyes as they shone with pity, then changed to relief as he saw my panting subside until I was breathing normally. That’s when I noticed I was straddled in his lap, crying as he smoothed down my hair and scraped it away from my sweaty brow. 

He sees me in my hell, where no one has ever seen me before and he isn’t running. He isn’t running, he’s brushing his hand along cheeks, then cupping them with his hands, ‘You’re here, you’re OK’ he soothed ‘I’ll be here for your nightmares, I’ll fight your daemons, I’ll cry for you and I’ll cry with you.’ this time the sobs weren't for my self loath, my pity or my pain but because I’ll miss him more than I should. ‘I can’t’ I sobbed ‘let you see my cry, I’m not who you think and I’m not who you think you could like.’ And when he didn’t respond instead surging towards me and capturing my lips with his own, everything I just said vanished. I bit down on his lip as he traced his tongue on my bottom lip and taunted me when he slipped his tongue against my own only to pull it back. I could feel him smile against my lips and the pooling heat growing in my core was enough for me to forget why he's here and maybe it selfish, but I want to keep forgetting...with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found this hard to write at first but kinda like it, hope you enjoyed :)


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 

It’s so cruel, but I’m having fun. I feel blessed but I'm still cursed. He makes the monsters hide but they're not gone. And for him I didn’t change, instead, my mask fell off. For him, the smile reaches my eyes, and my laugh stops resembling a cackle. For hours we talked, but it felt too wrong, I didn’t lie but I didn’t tell the truth either. He brings out the girl I should have been, a girl who doesn't feel empty someone who lives without the whole consuming guilt. 

When my eyes fluttered open it was still pitch black and my eyes felt droopy and dull, the heavyweight of exhaustion from the lack of sleep, crashing upon me in one swift storm. I figured I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, so I tried to escape Amar’s possessive grasp without stirring him from his seemingly serene sleep. I began nudging his arm and slowly trying to lift myself from his lap, but the calm of his face and the less harsh contours of his face still softened in his sleep when I looked at him. It was a mistake as I lingered watching him as my heart swelled, his eyes flit open as I tried to make my move. The still dreamy smile that washed over me as he saw me wearing just his oversized shirt and with my hair shoved up into a messy bun was enough to make me feel giddy. It might have been the possessive and almost animalistic part of me that roared at the satisfaction and pride he showed, as his eyes lingered on my breasts and dilated as he shone with hunger. 

But then I was reminded this couldn’t be true, I shouldn’t be happy, this isn’t right...Something isn’t right. As soon as I started talking the gleam left his eyes, ‘How did she die’ I whispered and when he didn’t answer I repeated it, raising my voice until I was almost shouting, ‘how did she die!’ He tried to come towards me, reached to touch my arm but I flinched I couldn’t deal with it, everything was just so wrong. His soothing words and puppy green eyes scared the hell out of me, ‘She..she was stabbed’ Amar mumbled barely audible, I’m surprised I heard it over the wailing in my head and the cracking of my heart. 

Rushing towards the door I threw my coat on and reached for my boots before Amar could try to stop me, ‘take me there’ I ordered, and he couldn’t object. After I’d chewed my nails to the point they bled, and the inside of my cheek was scarred we pulled up to electric blue police tape which almost begged me to turn around. For an assassin, the last place I should be is here, swarmed with police, but I couldn’t help the voice that commands me to see the place she died. ‘You can go now’ I said to Amar, he was too much of liability but in the back of my head I knew he wouldn’t leave me, and as I predicted he didn’t move an inch away. ‘I can get you in’ he muttered as his eyes stared at the ground and it broke my heart that he couldn’t look me in the eye. 

I nodded to show him I’d accepted his offer and with a flash of his badge and a quiet conversation that was clearly about me the officer stationed at the tape let us through. But then I stopped and paused, letting the luring thoughts creep into my mind. 

The pain in my heart is a bitch, but it’s my bitch. The pain won’t leave me anytime soon like my grandma did, as Akos did, and like Amar will. But I won’t let the pain in my heart or my head let me cry, no tears will fall down these cheeks. But if they do, I'll only cry in the rain because then nobody else can see all this fucking, grueling pain. And it's probably stupid, I'm probably lying but It's my fault, I know. Because why the hell would someone kill my grandma unless to get to me, she's dead because of me, her blood is on my hands. 

Then the rain starts to fall, and I let myself unravel; my tears disguised as rain but tears all the same. I know Amar isn't fooled but nothing is bringing me back now, he thought he was looking at something classic but I'm just something new and fucking tragic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

How do you say it’s over after all this time? How do you know when it’s really over? How do you accept they're never coming back? Then how do you stop letting the grief bringing you down?   
I’m back, the police tape is gone, and the alley looks as good as it did before. So basically, it looks like a tip, smashed beer bottles line the road and cigarettes causing the air to smell of tobacco. It looks exactly the same, but it's not, someone died here and there isn't even a dent, nothing.   
My mums being crying nonstop and she took time off work so we are even more skint than usual, Armad hasn’t called me in a while so I can’t even help with the money. It’s driving me mad, but then my mind flickers and I think of Amar, since the night she died I've been going to his flat every night, I let his dreamy eyes wash over me and allow the alcohol to drown out my despair.   
But nothing can pull me out of hell when I'm stood right where my grandma died; I’m trying to figure out how they did it. I whisper again and again; I hope It didn’t hurt. Then I start walking around as I whisper my wish, I'm not sure what I'm hoping to find, the police were already here, and it's been weeks since she died, but they have found nothing. Maybe because I'm an assassin I’ll find something; I can't help but hope in the back of my mind. But I mean for god sake I'm not a forensic scientist, I'm not a detective and I don’t know shit about this side of crime. Yet, even after thinking all of this my hope doesn't falter, what have I got to lose, I think. But I still can’t say that out loud without crying, because I've basically lost everything. And it's all my fault.   
My handshakes and the scars lining my fingers quiver as I siv through the trash can next to the spot she was stabbed, but after I'm halfway through I know it's pointless, who am I kidding? How do I keep doing this to myself, pretending I can help? I make things worse for everyone, but I can’t stop dreaming that there will be light at the end of the tunnel. I move onto the next trash can, looking at each piece of someone else's shit thinking I'm fucking Sherlock Holmes looking for clues. And yet I have no Watson, sure when I die they might cry but they will move on, they don’t love me the way I love them because I don’t think I'll ever be ready to move on.   
By then I'm gone, my emotions raw, I shed tears as I slowly creep away from the alley, it’s doing me no good being here. Amar said the same but now maybe I should believe he's right. I back out of the shadows but I’m walking like I’m drunk, all I want to do is cry until I sleep. I try to turn around but end up planting my arss on the floor, then I'm giggling till I cry, then I feel pain. I muffle my scream with my other hand whilst I lift my hand to see what happened. A gash covers my hand, blood pulsing from it as a puddle of blood already starts forming on my shirt. A swimming pool is now staining the floor red as I struggle to tear some of my shirt with one hand, I tie it tight around the cut almost wailing as the shirt turns red before I can blink.   
I reach blindly for whatever caused this gash and nearly freeze as my hand brushes a cold hard and almost wet blade, I didn’t have it in me to curse as I felt another me shallow cut graze my hand. But what really made my jaw hang open was the inscription written on the blade. Hey, Cyra it read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Found this hard to write, but here you are :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, there is some drug use but if you still want to read hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 13 

Be happy you don’t know how much time you have left they say, fuck that. This doesn't stop me thinking I'm going to die, someone knows me, and they don’t like what they see. It’s like Akos’s death again, I can't stop looking over my shoulder, wondering when the knife will hit my back. 

All I know is I can’t go home, can’t face my mum's questions; I could go to Amar’s, but it just doesn't feel right. All I want is to forget, to feel nothing, to let something else take the pain if only for a couple of hours. I know I shouldn’t, but I need the deep expansive drought in my heart filled before it cracks... 

The music booms through the streets as I walk along the narrow alley behind the biggest club in the city and I only pause as I reach the harsh black back door. I knock in a rhythm before someone loosens the latch, I realize this is my last chance to back away but the feeling of a hazy mind has me wishing, I just can’t turn back now, I'm in too deep. 

I haven't been here in a while, when Akos died it was the first time my depression was plaguing me day and night when I slept when I showered and most when I lied awake staring at the blank space next to me. Ryker first approached me as I brooded in trashy ally, somehow, I was oblivious to the smell of cannabis and the strange amount of lurking men waiting along the buildings. 

I still don’t know why but he came up to me first asked if I was ok, he treated me how I wanted, craved so badly and he knew just how to take advantage of me. He had whispered against my ear, ‘you want something to take your mind off it’ and little me nodded in desperation as he brought out a pill. ‘Open up’ he whispered so I obliged smiling as the tablet shrank on my tongue, laughing as my head started to spin. I don’t know how much he gave me until I forgot until my body and mind were numb, I loved it, but it also made me forget that this can’t last forever. That’s all I remember until I passed out on his sofa, clinging to the numbness as a lover holds it possession, hoping they don’t run. 

But then I was back in the present day, and his familiar face was staring back at me until he smiled in recognition, ‘haven’t seen you in a while’ he says then chuckles 'you want something to take your mind off it’ he whispers and it's like I'm a kid again as I nod in desperation. He’s the only one who knows everything, not even Armad knows every page in my book, and he doesn't mind helping me forget. Ryker motions for me to get in and as we walk through the back door and pulls me into an empty booth, he pulls that same tablet out of his pocket. I nod motioning for him to give it to me, but I know what he wants so I stick my tongue out and watch as he places the tablet on the tip of my tongue. The taste is warm and inviting and before it is fully gone, I motion for another and he says, ‘you’ve always been my favorite Cyra’ before setting out a small tin box. I know exactly what's in there and I want it, I need it and he knows it, ‘take some, on the house’ he grins. I pull out a familiar-looking tablet and he grips my wrist before I put it on my tongue, ‘go on let daddy do it’ he breaths out husky and commanding, so I let him, unable to wait any longer. He places it on his tongue before biting my lip telling me to open up, I oblige and his tongue slips into mine, then tablet slips onto my tongue and I break the kiss. But it’s Ryker so he won't be done, and he won't want me to be either. 

I don’t know how many I took until that void was filled, but the words I thought just last time I got stoned lulled me to unconsciousness. We ain’t making it past 21; and before I pass out I whisper, Akos didn’t so why should I.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 

Amar POV 

Fuck. What have I done? I thought me and Cyra were going so well, she had been staying at mine almost every day last week, but then she dropped off the face of the earth. I keep calling and texting her but never get a reply, I thought maybe she broke her phone, but my hope flickered out after she still hadn’t replied after a week. 

I didn’t notice how much I had started to rely on her company, her warmth to lull me to sleep, or her heartbeat to steady me when I'm spiraling until she was gone. I know I haven’t known her for too long, but she was the best thing I’ve ever had, I thought the Gods had finally given me a blessing. If it was up to me, I would have told her I loved her, worshipped her body, but I didn’t want to scare her off. Once things started to get heated, she always seemed to push me away. When my fingers brushed her thigh, I felt electricity, but she seemed to freeze from the shock. I just pray I didn’t scare her off, because I can’t stop my mind wandering off, thinking about her; and the stabs of jealously when I imagine her kissing someone else let me know I still love her. But after days of these thoughts plaguing my mind, I finally let my friends drag me to a night out, and oh boy did they want to go out, the biggest night club in the city it is. 

The loud knock on my door only added to my dread as I thought about going out with Ezra, then the door was barged down and before I was ready to shove him out, he came waltzing up. ‘Alright mate, you ain’t letting your best pal in bruv, dats low’ Ezra slurred out not stopping till he was right up in my face only confirming my suspicions that he’s already fucking smashed but we’re not even out yet. ‘You sure you're up to coming out mate cos I need to take my mind off shit’ I said as I propped Ezra up on the couch, I'll be surprised if he can walk to the club without breaking his legs but I'm not in the mood to be alone tonight, I'll put up with this bullshit to get rid of the other thought rattling in my mind. 

Ezra told me we should come in through the back door because he knows some guys there that will stop us freezing our arsses off in line, I don’t even try to explain to him it’s a bad idea as he turns into the alley. It’s fucking dodgy as crap down here; the smell of drugs almost reeks off everyone slumped down on the floor. My nose flares at the smell as Ezra drags me towards the door but what I was not expecting to be on the other side was a mass of white-blonde hair sprawled along the entrance. Ezra hadn't even noticed as he kicked the mass on the floor as he tripped past, so I knew she must be unconscious, silently cursing myself for half-hoping its Cyra, just so I can see her until I lean down to the girl to check her face. What the fuck did she do to be out cold like this, I lose count of the strings of curses I mutter under my breath as I turn her over. But then I stop... 

‘Cyra what have you done’ I murmur in her ear yet I'm almost disappointed as she doesn't wake up from my voice. Ezra already at the bar with some other guys when I turn to look for him, I know he's not going to be very happy with me in the morning, but this isn't about him. I scoop her up in my arms and hold back the weight in my heart ready to drop on her, as I take her in. Her eyes are closed but she's almost monochromatic as her face is the same colour as her icy hair. But for her, I hold back my tears because that’s not what she needs right now, she needs proper fucking help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed :)


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 

Back to Cyra POV 

The first thing I notice as the light starts creeping in through the blinds is the headache pounding at my skull and the warm figure curled against my side. My arm is splayed across his chest and his leg is wedged between my thighs and even though this is definitely not the time, my core heats at the thought before I shove it away thinking, wow great time to be fucking horny af. I hastily remove my arm and his leg from the array of tangled limbs in our bed and don’t bother to be quiet as I plod towards the bathroom. But it was my mistake because soon heavy knocks flood through the bathroom door and Amar tries to reason with me to open the door until he's almost pleading. ‘Cyra, please open up, I'm..I'm not mad or upset. I just think we need to talk’ he offered, and I knew he was tapping his knee like he does every time he's nervous even though I couldn’t see him. And through the memories, I siv through in my mind, of the nights we shared when he held me close as I cried and when I squeezed his hand when he was scared, they almost dared me to open the door, see what he has to say. 

When my hands close around the doorknob I'm ready to chicken out and cry into the bathtub until I hear him slowly walk away, but I'm not surprised. It's been almost half an hour since I locked myself in the bathroom and all he's done is whisper words of encouragement. So, before I can retreat I whisk the door open as Amar reaches the bed; his back is too me as I enter the room but I know he knows I’m here; he doesn’t press me to talk as he spins around and sits on the bed. Yet I’m not sure what to do if I should stand or sit or fill the silence or cry but I end up lowering myself to the floor as I silently will myself to speak. ‘Sorry ' Is all I murmur and I'm not sure he heard me so I began to repeat myself ‘I'm sor’ but that was all I got to until he injected, ‘you don’t need to apologize’ was all he asserted. It seemed neither of us knew what to say and small talk about the weather just seemed wrong, so the seconds of silence turned into minutes, merging into each other until we worked up the courage to speak. 

I gathered my breath before I began and then I spoke, ‘You don’t need to say anything until I'm done, and will you just let me get this all out’ I said and he nodded as he lifted his eyes to meet mine. My heart was in my mouth and I knew once this was all out, he wouldn’t want to see me, we would never be able to show each other our burning lust, but this was the right thing to do. So, with that in mind, I dived in ‘When I was thirteen me and my mum were fighting a lot, we didn’t have much money and it was all a little too much for her when she got home. When we would fight, she would go to her special place and I would just wander aimlessly stopping to ask for money but never getting anything. Until well...’ tears were pooling in my eyes now and Amar made to come closer but I just said’ you need to hear what I say first’ he seemed to accept that as he backed away towards his original seat on the edge of the bed. I then began to start up again, ‘this guy, umm... Armad approached me, he gave me some money and offered to buy me a hot chocolate. He saw my tear-stricken face and asked me what was wrong, I spilled everything to this stranger, he seemed nice but then he... he asked me to follow him. I told him my mum told me not to meet up with strangers but he told me we weren’t strangers anymore, he offered me his name and said he could help me and my mum if I followed him. I almost thought that if I wished hard enough my wishes would come true when I was a child, and for years I had dreamt of something like this and well I thought I finally had it. He took me to this massive house and started pointing out cameras and the security to me, then praising me when I found one on my own. Once we were inside, he said he would give me thousands of pounds a week if I did what he asked, and I didn’t even think before I said yes. He gave me a big smile and told me I did the right thing.’ This was the worst bit though, the real reason for the pool of dread in the pit of my stomach, ‘but I didn’t know that he has just asked me to be an assassin.’ Suddenly hot tears that I had been holding onto fled down my face, yet even through this my face stayed trained on his. Wondering what he would do next, hoping he wouldn’t see me for what I was, like the devil had when he said, ohhh shit a competition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a little longer, but hope you liked it.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16 

Amar POV 

My heads spinning, I don’t know what to think? How the fuck do you come back from, by the way, I'm a fucking assassin. I can't look her in the eye and say it's OK because she kills people for money for god's sake. But because of my heart, I can’t look her in the eye and say I don’t love you, cos I know it's not true. 

I've been staring at the floor so long there should be dents, I'm too scared to look her in the eye but I can't walk out. Her crumpled figure resting on the floor makes my heart ache and I keep trying to deny it, but as soon as I think about leaving, something pulls on my heart. It just gets harder thinking she might not be here with my bloodshot eyes and perfect cries. 

I know it's not pretty, what she does, but nobody's perfect. I don’t know why I'm bargaining with myself for a killer's heart, a devil's mind, and a girl defeated on the floor. I don’t know why I feel I can't give up on her, she might be playing me but maybe I want her too. 

‘Leave’ I ordered, surprised at my own confidence. The look of surprise that flashed across her face was gone as soon as it came, but the look of surprise pasted on my face stayed. ‘Ok’ she said, confident as the mask she puts on. I’m not gonna lie it stung, she’d never been that different person with me before. ‘When?’ I asked, but silently cursed the harshness of my voice, but it's not my fault I can't act like her best friend again, I don’t know if we will ever be the same. ‘Overnight, you bastard’ she whispered, and even though I wouldn’t admit it her coldness pricked at my facade. ‘Ok, you tell me then’ was my emotionless reply and all she said was ‘It's not that easy’ as she walked out. 

I felt the tears before they came, and I can't remember the time I cried this much. I hate that I love her. I hate that I care enough she can make me cry. 

Cyra POV 

I hate that id ruin my life for him. I hate that he still loves me. I hate that, that makes me still care. I don’t know why I agreed because I can’t run, as soon as I stop agreeing with Armad someone's going to be looking at my deceased body and severed head rolling on the floor. The pool of tears isn't as big as the pool of blood where my body would lay, that conversation should have me turning in my grave. 

Even though the memories of the men I've killed still haunt me when I see my tattoos, at least it makes me something, someone. Considering I might make it out alive if I leave Armad is stupid, but what's even worse is the thought of being on the run, made to watch my world like a hawk. I would be known as Armad’s delinquent dummy. 

Yet even when I'm lying through my teeth, I know I will try to run, not because I want out, but because I want another shot at love. The guilt ebbs at me when we touch, but the electricity in Amar's touch drowns it out and leaves me wanting more than just his tongue on my lips and his hands on my waist. 

So, here I am running, running from my thoughts, my life, and my guilty conscience because it's what he wants. Who says I not keeping a tally, if I leave for him, maybe he’ll stop with his harsh glares that tear me apart? 

Cos my favorite lie was when he told me he gave a shit, maybe because I believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a couple of days, but will hopefully be updating daily!


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17 

The fears in my mind, in my bones, it's underneath my skin. A week has passed. I’m ready to leave. 

It scares the living light out of me, but the same thrill of the unknown depths welcomes the chills pulsing through my bones. 2 hours, 3 minutes, and 24 seconds till freedom. But no, I can't let the moment sweep me away, once I leave, I'm a dead person running. The chance of me getting caught after 24hours is as high as the chance Armad won’t be happy, 100%. Yet part of me almost believes, maybe I can change the prewritten history, turn the clocks, rewrite the books. But these thoughts just leave me puzzled, it's unusual for me to paint my perfect pretty picture, I'm a realist, always have been and always will be, because what's the point in making dreams that you can see but never touch. 

But too soon I'm whisked away from my hollow thoughts by the low whistle of the wind and the faint touch of someone’s breath moisten my cheek. Without looking I know it's him, his persona gives him away as well as with his towering height. Along with the wind, it brings his scent as well, the one that leaves my breath hitching and my mind loses control ever so slightly. But then it's gone, but he's not; he’s moved behind me, almost hesitant as his hand carefully brushes mine. Then as a strand of my hair brushes his face as he leans in closer, close enough to smell the desire mixed with fear mingling with my breath I'm sure he can hear my thundering heart. All the sensations at once have me losing control on the inside but holding up my mask for everyone else to see; he must have released because he backs away slowly like he doesn’t want to but will. He doesn’t know how that changes my pattern of thought to him, all to him. Maybe he doesn't like me, maybe he set me up, maybe he's playing me, yet all of these thoughts don’t have me running because I know all I want is for him to play me, only if it means he’s still here. 

The announcer on the mic voice echoes around but nobody seems to be listening except me, the voice sounds almost familiar, like someone I used to know. It sounds like Akos sits at the tip of my tongue, but I can’t let myself say it because then I will believe it, he's dead and has been for years. That was all I needed because when he spoke again all I heard was the dull monotone voice wash over me as it did everyone else, the reminders losing themselves in the murky pollution. It seems like hours until he speaks again, ‘Attention. The train for London Paddington station is approaching track 24. All passengers get ready to depart.’ Then it kicked in, this is it. 

The haze of the passengers gathering their luggage and pulling their child that bit closer towards them almost seems like a book, too usual to be true, too normal. But that’s what I want, then the attention won’t be on me if I behave as any good wife would for her husband then I’ll be fine, I know yet it’s the only thing that’s keeping me from running back. Instead, I move forward, towards the train as it stops in front of me, the carriages packed with individuals oblivious that there are other people around, if I wasn’t use to it I would think the knocks and bumps hurt. Finally, the people have all got off and it's my turn to make sure I get on until I remember that’s not the character I'm playing, instead it's an obedient lapdog following my dear husband. So, I gesture for a child and his mother to go on ahead before I saunter onto the train, taking extra care to keep that polite smile plastered on my face. I Move towards the only available seats, this time I don’t check if anyone else wants them, this is four hours of the biggest day of my life; I want my arss to feel comfortable even if my mind won’t. Because all that certain is that as soon as I get off this train the party’s over and I'm on the run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Will hopefully update again tomorrow!


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18 

Do I have anyone on my side? The devil? 

The blaring horn woke me up from my peaceful dreams, dragging me into the nightmare that my actual life is. ‘We are approaching our destination. Please collect your luggage and get ready to leave’ boomed the tannoy which just added to the thundering in my heart. My business here is just starting and for the first time, I can just enjoy my surroundings. The station is beautiful with the pitched ceilings and hustle and bustle of daily life, with the stores running along the sides filled with expensive gear that steals the spotlight. But as I exit the train, it's even better than before with the vivid colors jumping out at me, I never knew I lived such as sheltered life, but I've never really been this far away from my home before. But no matter how beautiful it is, I couldn’t ignore the rumbling from my stomach and the dryness of my mouth, so before I even told Amar, I was skipping towards the coffee shop. The rows of pastries almost called for me but when I saw the chocolate cake my mouth salivated, I forgot why I was here and who I was with as I shoved through the crowds. The barista didn’t even ask what I wanted I think she could tell from my hanging mouth and hungry eyes, she chuckled as if she had no cares in the world when she saw my clear desire. With that the chocolate cake didn’t seem so appetizing as I took a napkin from the same barista, I briefly remembered to tip her as I began stalking over towards Amar. He had a coffee which at some point he must have ordered, and he sipped it as I sat down, but I didn't miss the finger tapping his leg, he must be nervous. 

Over the time it took to get here I had rehearsed in my head a not so little speech of what I was going to say but none of it seemed right in the moment. I was stuck for words and he seemed to notice but didn’t say anything which I was thankful for, ‘Ummm’ I started, whilst still having no idea what I was going to say after, but then he interjected and I'm sure he could see my relief ‘so’ he said but I didn’t know what to say after that, so the awkward silence that followed lasted days. And everything was made worse because once upon a time, I could have kissed him and he would have known what I meant to say. But now I'm not sure he feels that connection, or maybe he just chooses to ignore it, I don’t know. I was still stuck for words, but I didn’t know how else to do apart from blurting it out, even though that didn’t work before, but what other choice do I have. ‘I need to do something’ I got out somehow managing to keep my voice level. ‘You did leave though didn’t you’ he asked, but his fear-stricken face gave his panic away ‘yes’ I got out as quick as I could and that seemed to set him slightly at ease. ‘Then I'll come with you’ he said matter of factly ‘no... I uh... I need to do this alone’ I murmured as I brought my eyes to the floor. I feel almost ashamed that I can't let him be part of this, but he needs to know I'm doing it for his safety, and maybe so I still have a chance he might come back. ‘Why’ he demanded and back came his fear-stricken expression, this was the bit I was dreading, ‘I need to do one last thing for Armad’ I mumble hoping he would hear me but realize not to yell ‘you liar, you told me you were done’ he said and this time all expression was gone, and that’s what makes it worse. ‘To buy us time to leave’ I meant to scream but it came out as a low growl ‘for us’ I said, but that set him off the edge. I watched as he walks out, not turning back. And as he does, I don’t pretend to put on a good show for the people around, my smile wouldn’t reach my eyes anyway. Instead, I slump in my chair and let the words he said fill the void around me because I know it was all true, I lied and I'm not proud but still, I did it for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed please leave kudos or comment it really keeps me motivated :) But thanks for reading anyway.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure about this chapter, but here you go.

Chapter 19 

‘I'm not evil, I'm just good with a twist’ ’I’m not bad, I’m just not good either’ ‘I’m not perfect, but neither are you’ Who the fuck am I kidding, I’m off on my last ever mission whilst sitting here trying to justify the murderer I'm going to commit. I could lie and say I'm fine but that wouldn’t change anything, I'd be making a fool of myself. I’m dreading it, the man's dead corpse, the blood on my hands, and the look on Amar's face when all he can see is a monster. 

I wish there was an anecdote so I could erase all my mistakes, then I wouldn’t be cringing at the shuffle of feet filing out the train door, the beeping of the doors opening, and the curses from the businessmen on the phone. The tread of my shoes shouldn’t make my jump out my skin, but it does, I can’t deny it. Every tall businessman on the street shouldn’t look like Amar, but it does, and he doesn’t give a fuck. 

Maybe I'm the one to blame, but I hope it doesn’t work out that way. I hope my tears don’t fall if I ever see Amar, then my makeup would just be a waste of time. I hope I don’t need air, then he might walk out. I hope he doesn’t smile to choke his feelings, then my nails might start peeling. I hope if I see him, it isn't here, I hope he will be ready to forgive and I could learn to forget. 

But all I know is that this walk to my victim's house is killing me, turning me sick from the inside out. I’m tired of walking into a battle fighting with my good conscience, but I'm also tired of walking in circles. Caught up in my mind, I didn’t release I was lost, only going where my feet take me. Yet, somehow, I've ended up in the high street, stranded in the ocean of people. 

I’m left looking like the awkward kid at the school dance, glancing at the pretty guys trying to catch someone's eye. Yet I'm not looking for a dance, instead directions to the place I'm scheduled to commit a murder. I maneuver myself from the center of the street and scout out my next victim, a young man catches my eye. It would be social suicide is this was back in school, but I saunter towards him, careful to sway my hips that bit more, push my boobs up, and flutter my lashes. I'm not surprised he forgot where my eyes where, I mean it took a subtle cough for him to reluctantly drag his eyes back up to my face. 

He was good looking, but it was clear what he was after, and I'm not sure our priorities would match up. But this heartbreak has turned my mind upside down, maybe he would help make this heartbreak a whole lot easier. He could be something to soothe the scars or a band-aid to stick on my cuts. 

I think of the nights when I would wake up in a new bed every night, forgetting how I was up all night. A year back I was living another life, what a time for my heart, for my body getting claimed, for me to walk back home with my head hung down low. But it wasn’t all bad, it was another way to forget when I was off the drugs. Sure, it's not healthy but its medication alright, it numbs the pain even if the aftertaste isn't as nice. 

‘Hey, pretty girl’ he drools. 

‘You're not too bad yourself’ I say. 

‘Little cocky, are we?’ he chuckles. 

‘Depends what's your definition of cocky is, I just believe I'm confident in myself’ I remark. 

‘Alright Miss’ he says, mocking shock. 

‘Don't act surprised, I’m an independent woman’ I state, ‘But that doesn’t mean I'm a good girl’. 

‘Well then, I wonder if you're after the same thing as me’ he whispers, and I hope I wasn’t dreaming when his hand brushed my boob as he brought his hand back down after tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. 

‘Well, that depends what you're after doesn't it’ I coo. 

‘Well I would love to take you back to mine and fuck you senseless, but I'm a gentleman and I will offer you a night in the bar before the best night of your life’ he asserted but the cocky grin on his face was all jokes. 

‘Sure sir’ I murmur. And maybe I've got a night off from worrying if shit is ok, hopefully, the angel on my shoulder will sleep and the devil will laugh, cos I'm getting laid.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20   
Fuck. Once this night is over, I'm sure a hefty bill will come knocking at my door, I mean looking at the damage around me I think I might be robbed a couple of hundred pounds. But aside from that, I’m happy I took whoever this guy is up on this night because for once the past isn't strung high above my head for everyone to pity. And I'm hoping to keep it that way since I’m pretty sure he wants no strings attached and I guess that what I want too. Plus, it seems the way we're going to do that is by getting drunk out of our minds until we stop thinking completely. But, if I'm not wrong from the way he's stumbling over too me I think he might have already gone that far before I've even had a full drip of anything remotely alcoholic.   
‘It's good’ he shouts across the room, motioning to his beer, but I think everyone can see that by the way, he slurs his words. I think he almost stacks it across the room at one point but I've got to give it to him at least he thinks he looks smooth as he plods back towards me, but it was my mistake when I let a chuckle slip past my lips. ‘What you laughing at?’ he demanded but a grin rippled across his face as he mocked hurt until I couldn’t hold the laughter in any longer. I couldn’t breathe, but this time it wasn’t because I'd been crying too hard, I can't remember a time I laughed this hard since before Akos’s death. I can't remember when I cried because I was happy, I don’t remember another time I'd been barreled over laughing until it hurt, laughing with someone else.   
‘Nothing’ I snort out, not even trying to hide that it’s a lie but he plays along. ‘Are you sure it's not me? Because that would be very mean’ he dared but I was certain I wouldn’t give in that easily, ‘No I would never’ I state but this time I keep the glint of a joke out my eye and I must have been pretty convincing because he eyes search mine trying to convey every apology he has. ‘Sorry, did I got too far, I mean I'm drunk and you don’t even know me and...’ he rushed out before I could cut him off, ‘it's all right’ I corrected ‘I can take a joke’. ‘Oh, sorry ‘he sheepishly adds, and it tugs at my heartstrings, but I try and ignore the swell of feelings rushing from my heart to my brain. ‘if you stop saying sorry, I'll take shots’ I proclaimed and that seemed to get his attention because not one apology slipped past his lips for the rest of the night. We started to make small talk, somehow avoiding every question you normally would when on a first date of some sort and I was having a better than just good time.   
Once I’d regained my control after another fit of giggles because of some lame joke he’d come up with while in full swing to get completely intoxicated, I began thinking ‘really, I do know nothing about you’ I concluded, ‘ well then get to know me’ he retorted, switching from jokey to serious in a matter of seconds. ‘Ummm, well I have no siblings, do you have any?’ I asked’ No, but my parents used to foster kids in care’ he shared, and I could see how happy that made him. Maybe I misjudged him, I mean they do say don’t judge a book by its cover. ‘Are you close to your parents?’ I quizzed ‘cos I never knew my dad, my mum said he left before I was born when he found out my mum was pregnant with me. But me and my mum are close’ I added, surprised by my own honesty. And then again when I said’ don’t say you're sorry, shots remember’ when I saw the words forming on his lips. He didn’t say anything, but I could see the words in his conscience, but still I couldn’t stop talking, ‘I'm not like from a broken home’ I stuttered but carried on when he nodded for me to continue. ‘Well, my grandma came to help my mum when she found out she was pregnant, and she started living with us when I was born. She would drop me off at school when my mum was at work and take me to the park when I was going hyper. I loved her more than everyone apart from my mum, even Akos’ I gushed and even though he didn’t know who I was on about, he held the same grave expression I'm sure my face portrays whenever I talk about Akos. ‘Who did you lose’ I ask ‘uh’ he sputtered and I'm sure we could both sense the tears that were certainly going to strike. ‘Sorry’ I burst out, but what he said next made us both smile and cry at the same time, ‘if you stop saying sorry, I’ll shot’ I just nodded and the casual silence that filled the air as we cried wasn’t awkward, and slowly, day by day I think I'm coping better with the grief. Because, even though our eyes are different colors we see the world the same, through the eyes of grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


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